


Ocean Song

by sailingskies (orphan_account)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sailingskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clear and Aoba wait for a bus heading for the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocean Song

“Aoba-san,” Clear murmured. Aoba glanced towards him.

The sun beat down. Clear had his umbrella settled against the crook of his shoulder and his arm, closed beneath the blue-and-white glass enclosure of the bus stop. Most of Clear remained warmly shadowed beneath it, his body tilting, head resting on an imaginary surface, as if to doze. For a moment Aoba thought he might be.

Aoba pulled the sun brim of his hat down at an angle, and Clear raised his head, looked up at him with his eyes half-lidded, languid but awake. He could feel the heat of the sidewalk seep in through his sandals.

“What’s wrong?”

Clear’s smile, he thought, was gentle.

“I just realized…” Clear said, voice quiet and near the timbre of a familiar lullaby, “You’re the blue of the sea, Aoba-san, and I’m…”

He let his words trail away. Aoba stepped closer, reflexively, as if to try to catch them from being swept away by a wind. His lips parted, but before he could say anything, he realized the bus had come, finally, grumbling down the road not far from where he stood.

They lugged the bags borrowed from Granny, striped pink and white and green and filled with swim gear, onto the nearest seats. It was relatively empty inside, and cool. A pair of women sat looking over photos on one of their Coils, and a high school boy with wavy blue-black hair sat near the back, listening to music filtering in through his headphones. He let Clear have the seat by the window, as he still seemed to prefer to watch the world whenever he found the chance.

Then he took his hand.

“You’re Clear,” he replied, leaning against his shoulder and closing his eyes. After a moment of surprise, Clear slowly returned his hold. Tightened it. He could imagine his smile, as warm as the fractals of sun against the shade.

 _That’s all you need to be, for me,_ Aoba thought, before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
